


like the dawn you broke the dark

by alltheworldsinmyhead



Series: royai drabbles [5]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Kid Fic, Parental!Royai, Royai Week 2018, Soft!Roy, i love my babies and they deserve to be happy okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 18:00:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14899305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alltheworldsinmyhead/pseuds/alltheworldsinmyhead
Summary: he could stay like this forever, stare at them forever// Parental!Royai drabble ft. Soft!Roy Mustang, Sleepy!Riza Mustang and a lot of gushing.





	like the dawn you broke the dark

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Royai Week 2018, so check out #royaiweek2018 on tumblr to read some AMAZING fics from amazing writers in this fandom! Title taken from Oh Hello's "Like The Dawn".

 

> _If only you knew_
> 
> _The sunlight shines a little brighter,_
> 
> _The weight of the world’s a little lighter,_
> 
> _The stars lean in a little closer_
> 
> _All because of you._
> 
> -           _Sleeping at Last “Daughter”_
> 
>  
> 
> * * *
> 
>  

 

 

The calmness of those early hours of the day amazes him.

It’s almost as if the world took its collective breath and held it, too enchanted with its own beauty to let it out. Stillness, quietness; the sky turning light blue and then pink and then soft yellow, the sun still not visible on the horizon but its light already shining through the darkness of the night.

His daughter stirs in her sleep, stretches out in her blanket, small wrinkle appearing between her brows. She’s a good baby, a calm baby, almost sleeping through whole nights already, but she likes to be held, to feel one of her parents with her at all times or else she gets restless. And he doesn’t mind that, would never complain about that; if there’s even such a thing as peace in this world, he has never been closer to it than like this – at 5 a.m., with Elizabeth in his arms, Riza curled and breathing evenly by his side. He’s not a believer of a faith of any sort and he’s not exactly sure that humans get anything more than this one life, but if he could pick-and-choose, he would choose this moment to stay in for the whole eternity.

He hums a lullaby under his breath, rocking the baby in his arms gently to lull her back to sleep. The lines on her little face smooth out instantly and then she yawns; something like a small smile appears on her face before she calms down again.

He caresses her cheek with his thumb – god, she’s just so _tiny_ – and starts to wonder, for the millionth time, what does this wonderful, cruel world have in store for her. This fair-haired, dark-eyed little baby born out of a bond that stretches decades, out of love and loyalty and bloodsheds. She is held by the hands that killed, comforted by the smell of gunpowder in her mother’s hair, tickled by fingers who snapped and obliterated everything in her father’s wake. And how does she fit into all of this, how will she grow up with this kind of heritage?

How can he protect her from the mistakes that he’s made? How can he keep her frozen in time, innocent and unspoiled and  _golden_? There will be a time, and it’s coming soon when it will take more than a few notes of a lullaby to soothe her. All he wants is for her to stay safe and sound and how he’s supposed to do that?

“ You’re doing this again.”

A soft, sleepy voice derails his train of thoughts; without looking,  he can feel her shifting beside him and sitting up, leaning her head on his shoulder. So early in the morning, she’s younger; stripped out of her old uniform and all the years of discipline and yearning and cruelty. With her blond hair unbound and eyes half-open she could as well be no older than this pretty village girl he has left standing alone on the train station in a different lifetime.

“What exactly am I doing?” he asks her with a hint of amusement in his voice, because, well, he already knows the answer.

“ Overthinking everything” she yawns, lazily covering her mouth with one hand and rubbing her eyes with another.

“ I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She shakes her head, clicking her tongue in annoyance and taking Eli from his arms; she lifts her up to kiss the baby’s forehead.

“ She’s not hungry yet, you should sleep.” He grumbles, looping an arm around Riza’s waist to press them both closer to him. She props her chin up on his collarbone and looks up at him; cognac-eyes, messy-haired, with pillow wrinkles on her cheek, milk stains on her shirt and holding their baby… she takes his breath away.

“ Well, you’re not sleeping either, so-“ she lets the unspoken question of “why aren’t you” hanging in the air. She’s not going to ask it because they both know the answer. It’s embarrassing and it’s true; he can’t stop thinking that as soon as he’ll fall asleep, it will all disappear.

The nursery next to their bedroom, the bedroom itself, Riza from his side and Elizabeth from his arms. And he’ll wake up in his old apartment again, with the stale taste on whiskey in his mouth and this bitter, bitter ache in his chest, as if he was missing something vital and didn’t know what.

And he knows that and she knows that, and he knows that she’s afraid of that too; that this life they have now is just some cruel joke of a universe, a coma dream, a mist and a mirage. That it’s not real and it will not last.

He raises her left hand to his mouth, kissing the cold, metal band of her wedding ring and lies.

“ I don’t know, I’m just not sleepy. “

Riza nods her head knowingly, sending him a sad smile before looking down at their daughter again.  She caresses the pink bud of the baby’s lips with the tip of her finger, watching as Eli scrunches her button nose in displeasure.

“ I count on her fingers” she whispers, her voice barely loud enough for him to hear them, even in the quietness of the morning. “ When she’s eating. I count on her fingers just to know she is real.”

His arm tightens around her waist involuntary. There is a heavy burden they both have to carry; how can you cope with having a happy ending after spending your whole life believing that you don’t deserve one?

“ And you know, she is. She is real. It is real. Although it’s hard to believe it sometimes.” She tugs at his heartstrings with each and every syllable. He kisses the crown of her hair, wordlessly assuring her that  _yes, I know that_ and she sighs deeply, snuggling closer to him and leaning her head on his chest.

It’s getting lighter outside; early sun rays are spilling into the room, basking everything in this ethereal pinkish glow. The white curtains are billowing on the summer breeze, which carries the smell of fresh cut grass and peonies growing in the pot on their balcony. The birds are chirping cheerfully, getting louder and louder with every passing minute. He can hear the sound of Hayate switching position in his wicker basket downstairs; a  few years ago Riza would probably already be on the morning walk with him, but now the dog has finally gotten used to the new routine and stopped waking them up with pitiful wining at the crack of dawn.

Soft snore echoes in the room and he realizes that Riza has fallen back asleep on his chest, with Eli tucked in the crook of her elbow and her small head cushioned on Riza’s breast. As they lay like that together, mother and daughter, with their golden hair and fair skin and faint freckles scattered on the bridges of their noses, they are the epitome of serenity older than time.

He could stare at them forever, stay like that forever with them in his arms and never get bored, never have enough of it.

The clock chimes half past five and he realizes he could actually let his girls sleep, get out of bed and start a day now. Make himself a cup of coffee, eat a toast, walk Hayate. There is a thick stack of papers on his desk, all very urgent and he has a few important meeting in the afternoon that he has to prepare for.

He could start a day now. But he won’t.

Instead, he leans his head down, burying his nose in Riza’s hair ( all he can smell is her mint shampoo and baby powder, nothing, nothing else) and breaths out. He gently nudges Eli’s palm with his index finger and watches, transfixed, as her tiny fingers wrap around his much larger one.

He counts down all of his blessings; all millions of them contained in two.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it ;) If so, please leave me kudos/comments so I can feel a little bit better about my writing.


End file.
